


Feels Like Home

by kimbadee



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimbadee/pseuds/kimbadee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paige returns to Beacon Hills nearly ten years after what happened to her under the cover of a  hunter she's lived the last several years of her life as. Following a string of deaths she believes to be murders, will Scott and the Pack - and subsequently seeing Derek again - help her finish it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Paige never died in the universe, but was close to death. Her parents ran with her to get her away from everything in Beacon Hills but her mother dies in the process, and that's how they cross paths with Victor and the Winchesters.

“Krissy, I can't really talk right now.”

She could almost feel the tug of Sam raking his fingers through his hair as if it were her own scalp. It'd been nearly two days of driving from one town to another, following leads that were leading her closer and closer to where she most definitely did not want to be and her nerves were frayed around the edges. “It'll take two minutes, I swear.”

There was a door slammed on the other end of the line, and she smiled when she heard Dean's voice and the playful wrestling match it took for him to get the cell away from from Sam.

“Hey kid, what's up on your end?”

She let the kid comment slide–Paige looked down at the long legs that had developed after the years of running and scrappy fights, recalled every angle of the jaw she saw in the mirror every morning keen enough to cut glass. “What color dress should I wear to the prom? It'll be here any day now and I want to look good.”

“Wha–Prom?”

Sam gave an enraged snort and Paige laughed.

Dean scoffed into the phone and told Sam to go pick them up some dinner. “So what's really been going on? Prom, how old are you even, like nineteen right?”

“I'm _twenty-four_ ,” she gasped in defense. “Anyway, not the point. I keep following these leads and I don't know if I can keep following them.”

There was a quiet chuckle on the other end. “I mean technically you don't have to. But then again you said you'd lay low after the whole Victor thing. And look how long that lasted.”

Paige gave a noncommittal snort. She remembered saying that, but she was young then. Things were different. It hadn't taken long for her to feel restless before she started actively looking for cases to work on her own. She'd gotten her ass handed to her on a number of occasions in the beginning, but as she grew she started taking lessons from the Winchester handbook and learned to handle herself. Paige fell back against her bed and stared at the water stained ceiling of her motel room.

“Gimme the details of what you're following and why. Make it fast, Sammy'll be here quick with my burger.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Several drowning deaths connecting town to town by one or two people, far enough apart for people to stop completely noticing. I ran it by the local sheriff's office in one of the towns where one of the deputies just transferred out of. His cousin was a drowning victim back in '06 and –”

“Wait, '06? Just how far back do these cases go?” She could tell by the tone of his voice that Dean was interested.

“Pretty far; anyway, I ran it by him and he said there hasn't been anything more recent than two years ago within a hundred miles of the town.”

“So now what?”

“I was thinking of finding that deputy that transferred, but he's back in my hometown and I can't go back there.”

“Then abandon the case.”

“That's not fair,” she squawked, “There's something drowning these people and I think I've found a pattern. It's just...”

“There are other hunters in the area, so leave it to them.” He acted as if it were so simple.

“You know just as well what's happened to the Argents as I have and if I go into that territory alone I could get ripped to shreds.”

“Paige, I've never seen you this freaked over something even when it was related to your dad or Victor.” The door shut and Sam called out, and Dean added quickly, “Whatever it is, you'll have to deal with it on your own right now because we're heading to deal with some ah...angel related business in South Dakota.”

Although a small gesture to placate her–and Dean knew that's what he was aiming for–it was still nice to hear someone use her name. “Seriously? Dean come on. Help a girl out, you know I never ask for anything.”

“I...I know, I'm sorry.”

Paige scrubbed at her cheeks, angry at the tightness she felt building in her sinuses. “Fine, and since you're dealing with angels, tell the freak in the trench coat to leave me alone!” She hung up the phone and threw it against the bed with a sudden rush of anger. Sam and Dean were the only people to know anything about who she was before she became a hunter, and that was only because that pet angel of theirs had said something. Still, she'd gone three years of knowing them before she had to fess up to anything specific.

She's been after these drowning cases for months, trying to tie them all together in a tight little knot, but every time something comes up it all but disappears and the event is practically forgotten within a few weeks as if it had never occurred in the first place. But then she'd heard of this new deputy being transferred to the town where she grew up from the town Paige had only just arrived in. She had tried speaking with his family and his aunt and uncle about his cousin's drowning, but came up with several vague unanswered questions, everyones' minds fogged over conveniently around the same event. No one knew what'd happened.

She had always seemed like a very strong swimmer

It must've been a leg cramp.

Someone in a boat probably didn't see her.

No one gave her the same answer and none of them were clear. She didn't want to go back, but in order to talk to Jordan Parrish, Paige would have to go back to Beacon Hills one way or another.

~

Four days later, Paige stood at the town limit sign of a place she'd never see again. Beacon Hills had always been a great place for her even while she knew the Hale family. Sure, his uncle was a bit creepy and his older sister Laura was a bit on the lunatic spectrum, but she was a character and made Paige laugh. Mrs. Hale was one of the most regal women Paige had ever laid eyes on. Derek had always promised to let her meet his mom, but had never gotten around to doing it, but she'd seen her at the grocery store a number of times. Mr. Hale was handsome and loving and Paige understood where Derek got his quiet thunder from.

She found a dingy motel and paid for her room and quickly moved her few belongings from her car to the room, hoping that her scent didn't carry too much on the wind. Paige had kept tabs on the packs in and around the area after her family left, but she knew next to nothing about the so-called True Alpha or any of his pack. Frankly, she stopped caring once she'd caught wind that Derek had skipped town entirely.

Paige's fingers ghosted over the faint mark on her neck where the bite had been. Parts of that day were still blurry to her, but she remembered enough. Of Derek, of the school, of the hospital after she'd been found. The memories were achingly bitter. They made her focus on why she had to become Krissy Chambers.

It was still only about midmorning when she fell asleep, her hand on the hilt of the knife she cradled under her pillow. Images of her dad's face flashed through her mind, quickly replaced by Victor and the sound of his voice. Each time Paige allowed herself to remember them was followed by a sharp ache, always shocking her awake. The images this time bled into hazy snippets of dark hair and light eyes, a crooked and far too confident smile.

_She could hear his laughter and the soft voice that comforted her when she thought she was going to die. She remembered wanting to, even asking him to end it. He must have thought he did. Paige remembered the hospital, the voices of her parents and the sheriff who'd found her laying at the base of a tree. She remembered the sound of the machines she had been hooked up to. She couldn't find it in herself to open her eyes._

_“We'll take her to my sister's, we can start over.”_

_“Mrs. Krasikeva, I really don't think that that's necessary.”_

_Her dad spoke softly from his spot at the foot of her bed. “You can tell us that this was an animal attack all you want, John, but we don't believe it. I don't know what it could have been, but we don't want Paige somewhere that all she'll see are places where she nearly died.”_

_The sheriff sounded pained. “What about her friends, her schoolwork?”_

_Her stepmother's voice was a sharp hiss. “You think we care about her schoolwork?”_

_“Yeah, don't get us wrong, we love that she's so focused on her practice, but she isn't really the kind for friends. She keeps her grades up, but all she cares about is her practice.”_

_Paige remembered the itch in her fingers at the mention of her cello, wishing they'd move._

_The scene faded before anyone else could speak. She'd had that dream often enough to know the conversation._

She woke with her tank top rucked up around her ribcage. Paige could look down and recount the time and place she'd gotten each of her scars. Each scratch she'd gotten, every graze received from each close call. Her fingers traced each freckle and mole that marked her skin, each scrape that marred the otherwise pale expanse of her stomach.

Her fingers drummed along the familiar bound hilt she held in her palm, coffee stain eyes following the cracks in the ceiling.

“You proud of me, Dad?” Paige had grown used to traveling on her own once she left Josephine and Aidan behind, but she'd found it calming to speak out to her dad. She'd lost any ability to believe in most religion after her family had left Beacon Hills, but Paige knew well enough that he could still be hanging around.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she straightened her clothing before shoving her computer unceremoniously into her bag. Pulling the dress she had laid out from the desk, Paige whipped off her top before slipping it on. She wasn't fond of the clothing she wore for undercover intrigues, but if Sam and Dean had taught her anything over the years, it was that you had to dress the part if you wanted to get shit done. In this case, as a grad student looking to speak with the sheriff for work on a thesis. Tossing her sack into the backseat of her car, she returned her room key and set off into town. All of the mom and pop shops were still open and looked how she recalled from when she and her parents lived in Beacon Hills. Paige liked that about the town, knowing that it still held a lot of its character after she'd been gone for so long.

Pulling into the police station, Paige watched as men and women milled in and out of the building. Sam had compared her to Dean on the level that she really needed to work on her people skills when trying to get information out of a witness. Steeling herself, Paige headed toward the entrance, holding the door open for a trio of teenagers before entering herself. She watched them disappear down a side hall, the two young men talking animatedly with each other while a redhead looked on with disdain, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary for her.

Paige walked up to the front desk where a young man stood, looking at the name plaques hanging on the wall behind him. “Excuse me, I'm here for a meeting with Sheriff...ah, Stilinski, is it?” She smiled at him when he blinked.

Just as he was about to speak, a tall man with dark hair and tan skin walked out from one of the back offices. “The sheriff is currently in a meeting, can I help you?”

Paige searched her memory for his face but it brought nothing. He was wearing a dark suit, unlike the brown and tan uniforms worn by the officer in front of her. The man had an FBI badge hanging around his neck. Crap. “And you would be?”

“Agent McCall, I'm currently working with Sheriff Stilinski.” He quirked a single brow. “And you would be?”

She chuckled quietly. “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Katie Langdon,” she lied easily, “I called the other day? He agreed to give me an interview to help me with my thesis.”

Agent McCall looked skeptical, but nodded anyway. “Right, you're the student from Berkeley he mentioned. Alright, come on back. He should be free soon.” He opened the divider and allowed Paige to walk passed him.

The back of the station was a bit hectic, with phones ringing and the sound of hurried footsteps. She was directed to sit on a bench outside of the sheriff's office while the agent slipped inside. Paige could hear the voice of one of the young men from earlier coming from inside the office, sounding blithe and sarcastic toward the man for interrupting.

Another man spoke up for the first time, sounding tired. “Stiles, knock it off. You boys go back to school; we can talk later.”

“But dad – ” the boy sounded indignant.

“Now. Stiles, I have work to do.” A different man from before walked out of the office, but Paige vaguely recognized him. He held an arm out, leading the three teenagers she'd let into the station to file out of his office. Giving a one-armed hug to a pale kid with dark hair, he clapped the other two on the shoulder before glancing in her direction. He blinked quickly and stared at her. “Sorry for the wait.”

With a quick glance at the backs of the retreating threesome, Paige smiled. “Not a problem at all.” She followed him into the room and looked around quietly before sitting in one of the offered chairs. Agent McCall was leaning against a bookshelf on the side of the room.

Sheriff Stilinski squinted at her for a moment. “Have we met before?”

She shook her head quickly, tucking loose hair behind an ear. “No sir.”

He shook his head softly. “So what can I do for you exactly?” The sheriff's eyes were tired, but he smiled at her nonetheless. His sandy blonde hair was in a bit of disarray. He placed a few folders into one of the cabinets behind the desk before dropping into a squeaking leather chair.

Paige softened her eyes around the edges – what Sam called her puppy dog look – and began explaining about her work looking into just a few of the drowning victims.

The sheriff looked confused. “The nearest lake we have is up in the nature preserve and we haven't had a drowning there in years, if–actually–ever. I don't see how that would bring you here.”

Paige shook her head and brought her purse to her lap. She brought out a manila folder with a few newspaper clippings and some pictures from the previous town. “I was told by the local sheriff of the last town I visited that this young man here,” she presented Jordan Parrish's picture to the two men, “lives in the area now.”

“Who, Deputy Parrish? What's he got to do with this? He works with this department now.”

“His cousin Lena drowned a couple years back and I was hoping he'd have a clearer idea of what happened than his family. I couldn't get anything out of them and I was told to come here. I wanted to ask permission first so it didn't look like I was snooping through anyone's private business or anything.”

Both men snorted in unison and Paige gave them a questioning glance.

“You'll have to excuse us,” Agent McCall chuckled. “We deal with snooping quite often with our sons, so don't you worry.”

“Oh,” Paige began, “You two are...”

“Oh lord no.” Sheriff Stilinski waved his hands around frantically. “Our kids have been best friends since kindergarten. I'm surprised they haven't gotten matching tattoos yet.”

“That we know of, anyway.”

Paige looked at her papers. “So, I could just speak with Parrish?”

The sheriff shrugged with a noncommittal frown. “We don't see any problem with it. Hey Raf, could you give us a minute?” Agent McCall looked like he was about to argue, but thought against it when Stilinski nodded toward the door. Once the other man had left, the sheriff turned his attention on her. “What is this really about?”

Paige knew she should've dialed back on the puppy dog expression. “Excuse me?”

“What exactly are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I followed some leads and I ended up here. I'm working on a part of my thesis that focuses on how local law enforcement deals crime when involved in a string, and I've done enough research to know that this town has had a lot of...problems with dead people popping up.”  
The man huffed out a breathy laugh before settling back in his chair. “That's putting it lightly.”

“Sheriff –”

“John, please.”

An edge of her mouth crooked toward her eyes. “Look, John, I know this is a strange position to be put in, but really; if I don't get what I need from you, you can rest assured that I'll find out what I need to know in another way.”

John crossed his arms. “Really now?” His blue eyes shown playfully, “and how do you expect to do that?”

Paige shrugged. “Placing myself in the way of extensive bodily harm, probably.” It wasn't a lie.

He gave a very put upon sigh. “Of course you would. You and my son would probably get along.”

“Thanks?”

John scrubbed his palms across his face and Paige could see his resolve flagging. “Okay, I'll tell you a few things, but obviously I can't give you some things outright.” Paige waited expectantly. “Aren't you going to write anything down?”

She leaned forward and tapped the side of her head. “Mind like a steel trap. Hit me.”

The sheriff rested his elbows against his desk. “Alright. By the looks of it, we've already found three bodies; so far, the only connection between them is that they were found by the lake. Some park rangers found them and we've roped off the area and put it under surveillance so no one goes in. No mutual relations, different age groups, no similar hobbies; nothing. We can't even say if the witnesses saw anything out of the ordinary, except that a couple of people were there for all three drownings. The strange thing is, they've popped back up in places like the supermarket and at church.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the victims, the ones who were dead – are dead. They've come back to life somehow.”

“And you've looked into it?”

“Well of course we did, but how could we do it without seeming suspicious to the rest of the department? And then there're those people from the drownings, but they were a family of out-of-towners who have a home near the preserve. We checked into every possible angle, but came up with nothing. The victims all seemed to have drowned.”

_Seemed to._ “When did they start?”

“About two weeks ago.”

“No potential for a copycat?” Paige had been laying low on the periphery of town for less than a week. That didn't add up.

She seemed to have taken him by surprise. “Not that we've seen, no.”

“Any witnesses?” Paige noticed the skin around his eyes tighten and could practically hear his brain attempting to find something to say.

“Stilinski.” Paige looked over her shoulder as the sheriff looked up. Agent McCall was in the doorway, holding Stiles by the upper arm. “Isn't this yours?”

“For Christ's sake, Stiles, what'd you do?”

Agent McCall leveled a stare at Paige before shoving the kid further into the room. “I caught him lurking around your car–”

“Lurking,” the boy squawked, “is oddly specific.” His head tilted, a look of confusion on his face. “Loitering, maybe, but lurking, not so much.”

Paige snorted, standing and straightened the hem of her dress. “I think I should leave, thanks for meeting with me, sheriff. I got what I needed.”

John gave her a strained glance as Agent McCall shut the door. “You did?”

“I got enough.”

The man schooled his expression quickly. “Right, okay. Well, feel free to call again if you need anything else.”

She smiled quietly and shook his hand, “of course.” Paige stepped out and stood to the side as the door closed behind her. Making a show of looking for her keys in her purse, she pressed back against the wall, waiting to hear.

“What's so important that you didn't leave when I told you to?”

“Really nice car, really attractive girl.” Stiles let his voice fade out.

“Scott and Lydia?”

“They left, of course.”

“Why don't I believe you?”

“They went to Deaton's. Dad, come on, it's one of those cases.”

“And that calls for hanging around this girl's car.” He sounded as if this was commonplace.

“She's here about the murders–”

“People drowned, Stiles, that doesn't mean they were murdered.”

“Dad, are you kidding me? Scott heard her asking her questions and Lydia gets this weird feeling around her. What kind of person goes to an active crime scene – oh don't give me that look.”

Paige snorted and moved away from the door. The sheriff was holding back from her, but it was clear that his son knew more about the attacks than the files probably let on. She'd have to see that for herself. Slumping into the drivers' side door, Paige pulled a beaten up phone from the side of her bag. It was answered on the third ring, as always. “Josephine.”

“That would be me, yes.”

She got in and started the car, letting the engine idle. “I might have a slight problem.”

There was a slight hitch in the tone of Josephine's voice, “what do you need?”

“Remember that group of water sprites I told you about a couple weeks back?”

“Yeah? Why you chose to go with it, I'll never know. Sprites are boring. Don't you roll your eyes at me.” How did she know that?

“Well, I followed the lead so quit complaining. But now I'm in range of a werewolf pack and another set of hunters.”

“So what's the problem?”

“You know I can't do anything with that.”

Josephine gave an annoyed grunt. “Krissy, you decided that years ago, and you've avoided any cases where you knew there were packs since then. Now you're in a town with more than one threat, two birds one stone sort of thing, you know?”

Shifting the phone between her ear and shoulder, Paige drove off, watching Stiles clamber into his jeep through the rearview mirror. “I don't do wolves.”

“And what do you expect to do if you run up against one when going for one of the sprites? How are you even going to tell? Transformation incantations are a dime a dozen these days so you can't even tell with the skin anymore.”

“Deaton.”

“Wanna run that by me again?”

“Something this kid said, he's the son of the sheriff. He said his friends heard me questioning his dad. They weren't even in the building. I knew there was a pack somewhere in the area.”

Laughter tinkled through the speaker. “Who names their kid Deaton?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Not the point. Look, I think I might know who this guy is. My dad knew someone when I was a kid. If it's the same person I'm thinking of, he's gotta know about the wolves; and if he knows about the wolves, my money's on him knowing about any other supernatural bullshit this town brings in.”

“Okay, I know we promised never to ask unless it's a huge problem, but where are you? You sound like you've seen this before.”

“I'm in California,” Paige hedged. “My parents and I drove through this area when I was a kid, they're from the area. I heard stories. Don't worry about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. All your lone wolf BS, whatever. My advice is to find out more about this Deaton guy and see if you can talk to him. Try to catch him alone; you don't know what he is yet. Be careful.”

After hanging up, Paige tossed the phone over her shoulder. Part of her missed being around Josephine and Aidan, recalling moments after Victor killed himself. They'd stuck together for a year and laid low before she started feeling that itch again. As far as she knew, once they'd split form each other Josephine had made her way to Louisiana and Aidan set up camp somewhere around the Great Lakes.  
Spending time on and off with the Winchesters gave Paige ideas about her own life. She hadn't reached the level of credit fraud the brothers have gotten to, but there were other things. Never turn down a good cup of coffee, keep burner cells on hand, aim to pay in cash when you have the ability to. Stick to the shit you know. Paige kept that in the front of her mind as she dropped a couple of bills on the checkout counter of the new motel in exchange for her key. This is what she knew; essentially living out of her car and jumping from one motel to the next, never staying for more than a couple of days.

Paige stood in the doorway to her room. There was a single bed up against a wall of wood panelling, the covers an odd paisley pattern. The carpet was a dark blue color with significantly less questionable stains than she was used to. There was even a cloth covering the table against the wall. It wasn't the Ritz, but it was several steps forward from what Paige had spent her time staying in.

Tossing her pack on the bed, she dropped a small cardboard box near the head of the bed. It contained the books Paige had accumulated over the years, including several that she had gotten – taken – from Sam Winchester. The brothers were busy working on something dealing with angels at the moment, so she figured that a couple of bestiaries wouldn't be missed. Changelings didn't tend to murder people – most of the time they took on several different faces to keep a low profile. Imps were tricksters, pulling pranks, but tended to be followers and would go with what they were told. With the information given to her by the sheriff, Paige began to suspect that they had joined a larger clan, or at least someone was pulling the strings.

Opening the cardboard box, Paige pulled out a small book, old and over stuffed with cards and papers. When her mom was still alive, she kept all of her addresses in it, but after she died when Paige was sixteen, her dad began placing his own contacts within its pages. She brushed her fingers over the familiar script of her mom's handwriting, the extravagant curlycues a stark contrast to the male chicken scratch. Her dad had gone back through the old addresses of the people they knew when they lived in Beacon Hills and placed notes next to each of their names. Paige knew the name she heard Stiles mentioned earlier. Deaton. Deaton. Alan Deaton. The vet.

Of course. The information would have been funnier to recall in a less aggravating situation.

The address to the man's office was scrawled out in her dad's handwriting next to At hospital. She wasn't entirely sure what that could have meant. Laying the book out in front of her along with three others, Paige settled in, knowing that she wouldn't be able to head back to the police station for several hours. She would just have to lay out and wait.

~

She was oddly disappointed over how easy it was to get into the police station that night. A quick surveillance of the outside of the building led her to a small window with a faulty latch. Paige was expecting the need to break something herself, at the very least. As it was, she dropped as soundlessly as she could manage into a darkened closet space, surrounded by metal shelves and paper packages. The door creaked as she slipped through the entryway, her boots tapping lightly against the tile. The shades were pulled down inside the sheriff's office as Paige knelt in front of the doorknob.

Picking locks had never been very difficult for her to perfect. Paige worked for a few short moments before hearing the snick of the lock. Shifting into the room, she locked the door behind her. The cabinets behind the desk were locked and she swore under her breath. Trying to break into the cabinets were more difficult – not to mention noisier – than picking a door lock. Just as she turned to check the desk, the sound of someone's voice wafted underneath the door. Diving under the sheriff's desk, Paige gripped the hilt of the knife she kept in her boot.

A minute later, the doorknob jiggled and the door was pushed open.

“Your dad's going to notice that those files are missing,” someone hissed, a girl.

“He may as well have asked me to come in here and take the files when he wouldn't hear me out earlier.”

Stiles. She should've figured he'd show up at some point. Paige just hoped that he would have tried right after closing rather than after midnight. She heard the sound of keys and the metallic slide of the cabinet drawer. Of course he stole the keys. The fluttering sound of papers hit the desk above her.

“What exactly do you think that girl was here for when she talked to him?”

“I dunno. A girl that hot should not be that be interested in a string of dead bodies.” Paige rolled her eyes.

“Stiles. Stiles, wait.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt.

“I don't think we're alone.”

Paige tensed, her grip tightening.

Stiles gave an aggravated groan. “It's fine, Lydia. Scott would've noticed if someone else were here. Besides,” he sounded proud, “I've got my bat.”

“Well fine then; can we get out of here? I've got a really weird feeling being in here.”

Paige heard the shuffling of the folders before the sound of footsteps and voices faded. She felt like kicking something. This Stiles kid had already thrown a major wrench in her plans. Pulling out her phone, she stabbed at the keypad aggressively. “Sam.”

“It's been less than two days, what did you do?”

She raked her fingers over her scalp. “Do I really have to keep up with the whole 'we don't kill humans' thing?”

She heard the man stutter. “I mean, unless you've been attacked already. What's wrong?”

“I was this close, this close, to getting some files I needed from the police station, but the sheriff's son got to them first.”

“His son?”

“The kid's got a connection with the werewolves in this town and they've got their lot in with the murders.” Paige began pacing. People rarely got the upper hand on her anymore.

“You're dealing with werewolves now? Look, we can be out there in about a day if you need to help.” The concern in Sam's voice was palpable.

“Oh calm down; I'm not dead yet. Anyway, you know how I feel about werewolves. It's a different pack from what I remember, anyway. The last of the old pack skipped town not too long ago and there's just a baby pack around. Unless they bother me outright, I'm planning on avoiding them.”

There was some shuffling. “But now they've got the information you need. What are you planning on doing?”

“Flying by the seat of my pants, as usual.”

“The last time you did that you needed stitches.” The depth of his sigh resonated through her entire body.

“I'll fix this. Look, I gotta go. I've got a date with a vet.”

“A vet? What–” It wasn't like she enjoyed hanging up on the Winchesters, but they tended to get a bit longwinded.

Paige tiptoed back over to the door and glanced around the corner before she heard it. Ducking fast, she out-maneuvered the metallic sound of the bat swinging through the air at the back of her head and swung her leg up. Tumbling forward, she sprung up to face Stiles and the redhead from before.

“I told you we weren't alone.” Her tone was hissingly frantic yet matter-of-fact.

Stiles had placed himself between Lydia and Paige. “I've got a werewolf and his spirit fox girlfriend outside and they'll be here in seconds if I need them.”

Paige let up on her stance. Spirit fox with a werewolf and that's assuming at least one of these two were human. “What exactly kind of pack are you working with even? I just came here to look at some papers and you just gave up the positions of an entire pack to a hunter.”

The young woman's perfect brows pinched together. “Shit, Stiles she's right.”

Stiles shook the papers. “That still doesn't explain why you need these.”

“How about we start with why you need them and why you need to have Deaton look them over?” Please let him be dumber than he looks.

“Lydia, go get the others and bring them in, I think we all need to talk. This is the girl I told you about from earlier.”

Lydia turned tail and skittered off into the dark halls of the police station toward the entrance while Stiles kept his eyes trained on Paige and his bat dangling at his side.

“You might as well drop the bat, you're not going to get a hit in.”

“Yeah, well that's for me to decide.”

A few moments later, Lydia returned with two other teens, a young Asian woman and–“You must be McCall's kid, the one attached to Stiles since Kindergarten.”

The young man took offense to that and growled. “He's more of a general sperm donor than a dad.” Woah, wrong button to push. Paige held her hands up and didn't try to press. “Who are you? I can tell if you're lying.”

Paige looked at Lydia, ignoring him for a moment. “Hey, Red, y'think you can call off your attack mutt with the bat? I'd rather have this general conversation without getting wailed on with a giant metal stick.”

“Stiles,” she called softly, beckoning him back to the rest of the group.

Paige leaned against one of the desks and folded her legs at the ankles, letting her heavy boots clunk together. “My name is Krissy and I'm a hunter of nearly everything that goes bump in the night.” She eyed the young Asian woman, poised with a sword in front of her. “I'm assuming you're the spirit fox girlfriend, so technically that means you sweetie. I'd put that down before you hurt yourself.”

Her grip tightened a little more. “I'm good with it right here.”

“Suit yourself, see how much you get out of me if I feel threatened by any one of you.”

“Kira,” the young man next to her motioned for her to lower the sword and she did so only after another moment of hesitation, keeping her eyes trained sharply on Paige. Smart girl.

Stiles snorted, a sardonic note in his voice. “Nearly everything? What does that even mean?”

“It means wolf boy's in luck. I don't hunt werewolves, never have. Not really my thing.”

The entire group's general stance seemed to become less tense as soon as she finished. The other young man stepped forward.

“My name is Scott.” His eyes flashed for a quick moment before returning to their normal dark brown. That caught Paige's interest.

“Oh so you're the one that I've been hearing about. This whole “true alpha” thing's a bit of a trip for me–never heard of it before and yet here you are.” She turned her eyes back to Stiles and the papers he still held in his hands. “I'm going to read those papers whether you want me to or not, so it's best that you save your dad some bitching at you for stealing and just get it over with now.”

Stiles looked offended. “Hey, what about you? You were going to take these if I hadn't gotten to them!” He shook the papers as if to drive his point home.

“Actually I was going to go through them and put them back. Your dad already suspects that I'm not some doe-eyed grad student looking for an A on her thesis, so why would I go out of my way to steal papers that he'd be willing to show me himself?”

Apparently Stiles hadn't thought of that by the flabbergasted expression in his eyes.

Paige held out her hands. “Put on the desk here and we'll all look at them. No one attacks anyone, we just share the papers. Clear?”

The suggestion seemed to work for Scott because he pushed for Stiles to do as she asked. The four teens walked over to the desk Paige leaned against.

The papers held information about the drowning victims from the last several years, much of which Paige had already seen in one form or another. What caught her eye was the information regarding Jordan Parrish.

Scott tapped his finger against the name. “Jordan Parrish–like...like Deputy Parrish, who works with your dad?”

“I think so,” Stiles answered.

“They really are the same person,” Paige said quietly.

“Who are the same?” Kira asked.

“You're talking about Lena Parrish, aren't you?” Lydia asked. “Deputy Parrish is, was, Lena's cousin. According to this, Lena drowned a few years ago.”

“Parrish is my only lead right now. From what I can tell, every single drowning has had one very specific thing in common that the police have missed. There is a family of three that have been seen at at least seven different drownings throughout the years, and this is the first time they've stayed in one place long enough to be seen at all three drownings. I just can't figure out why.” Paige stopped speaking as she heard footsteps from down one of the corridors. 

The group tensed up and held their breath, waiting for the footsteps to fade, rather they sounded as if they were coming closer. Stiles gathered up the papers and shoved them back into the folder and shoving them into a side pocket inside his jacket.

“Come on!” Paige ran back toward the closet she came from and ushered everyone inside. She gave a harsh whisper, “out through the window, go.”

Scott hopped up to the windowsill and pulled Paige up by her forearm. Once outside, he glanced at her before heading along with his friends. “Tomorrow, come to this address,” he took out a gum wrapper and a pathetically chewed to the bit pencil nub and scribbled something on it. “We'll talk this out. We could always use another hunter on our side.”  
Paige wrapped her fingers around his wrist to stop him from getting away. “Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I'm on your side.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first actual fic, completely unbeta'd, so be honest but hey, hopefully you enjoyed it! More to come


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